Stop Every Clock
by OurLoveIsForever
Summary: Loss is a common experience that can be encountered many times during a lifetime; it does not discriminate for age, race, sex, education, economic status, blood status or nationality. A collection of one-shots set during the Wars.
1. Wanted

**This is a collection of one-shots that I created. I know that loss is hard. It is very tough for everyone. I want to convey the feelings of the characters first and foremost. Sometimes these strike me at the strangest times. I hope that someone can get some comfort from them. I know that I do. Now that aside, I will explore all kinds of loss. **

**Enjoy!**

**--**

Every second, dripping off my fingertips  
Wage your war  
Another soldier, says he's not afraid to die  
Well I am scared  
In slow motion, the blast is beautiful  
Doors slam shut  
A clock is ticking, but it's hidden far away  
Safe and sound  
_-Somewhere a Clock Is Ticking, Snow Patrol_

**--**

**Wanted**

We had taken a stand. We rose to the call of duty. My friends and I were going to defend our home away from home. Harry Potter had returned to Hogwarts. As soon as we were summoned to the Great Hall, I knew that I would soon be fighting for my life. When Ernie stood asking if we could stay and fight I clapped my agreement.

I had been party to threatening that pug-faced bitch from Slytherin, Parkinson, pulling my wand as soon as she suggested turning Potter over. She had to be out of her damnable mind!

As the younger kids left, I felt part of my innocence leaving with them. One of my good friends, a fifth year, ran up and gave me a hug and a quick good luck before following after the rest of our house. Soon only myself and nearly sixteen or so other Hufflepuffs remained, a smaller number of Ravenclaws, and, of course, no Slytherins.

We were commanded to differing parts of the castle. Julian went to the astronomy tower. The last I saw of him was the swish of his golden hair as he faded from view following after McGonagall. Mary and I followed old Professor Lupin onto the grounds. There were seven of us plus the professor. He looked frantic and yet determined. I suppose the correct word would be courageous and I hoped that I could reflect the same image, even if I was scared out of my mind. In the silence before the battle, Mary took hold of my arm. I nodded, trying to give her some peace of mind, though I knew my simple nod would not ease her fears. A couple Gryffindors to our right were discussing how Harry Potter planned to win, three Ravenclaws to my left were whispering quietly yet we had one goal: to survive this night.

Surrounded by Ravenclaws and Gryffindors alike, I knew that we all were in for the fight of our lives.

"Hey," I heard a familiar voice to my left. Terry nodded his encouragement. I magicked my hair back out of my face. I didn't need the mane in my way when the Death Eaters finally came.

The silence before the storm, that was what enclosed us. I knew the danger that lurked in the shadows, in the places hidden from the light of the moon. For a few moments, I allowed my mind to linger on the faces of my mother and father. They would be worried sick when they realized just what I had done which I knew would be soon enough. Really, could they expect anything less? I wouldn't dare leave when Julian and Mary, Melinda, Ainthe, and Cian, even Susan and Justin had remained behind to fight. I couldn't be expected to leave them. They…they were my family and in that moment when I had remained seated in the Great Hall where we had made so many memories, glancing at each of their faces painted over with fear and resolve, I knew in that moment I would sacrifice myself for them in an instant if need be. Mum and dad would understand.

They had to.

The first curse came out of nowhere, stunning a girl from another group of fighters. She fell to the ground as we were rushed.

It was the stuff of nightmares. Roars and cries echoed off the stone walls of the castle. I did all I could running this way and that, dodging jets of green light, dodging death. Rushing around an intense duel between members of Dubmledore's Army and what appeared to be a Ministry official, I whipped my wand around and struck a Death Eater towering over an unarmed Ravenclaw: Terry. His entire arm was covered in blood. I growled angrily at the Death Eater. "_Alerte Ascendare_!" He flew into the air and out of sight. Crouching, I cast the best shield charm I knew. "Are you alright?" He nodded and I muttered a quick healing spell toward the deep gash. It healed before my eyes.

"Look at that!" I spun to see Professor Lupin dueling some intense eyed Death Eater fiercely. I had never seen anything like it. "I think he sets an example for all of us, yeah?" He pulled himself up and gave me a quick hug before running off toward another black cloaked figure.

I only was still for a moment, but that was enough.

Honestly, I never thought that I would make it out of the battle alive. Somewhere in the back of my mind I heard the yell of my name. It sounded familiar. Pain ripped through my body in the next second. I had no warning, no chance of escape. It fell on me like a guillotine, cutting through my insides, ripping, pulling, breaking…killing.

The pain was paramount to anything I had ever felt before.

I fell onto my knees, feeling the damp of the ground seeping through my tights, vaguely aware that Terry was running toward me. A black figure stalked behind him, raising his wand. I did the only thing I could think of: I flicked my wand for last time sending the Death Eater to the ground, unconscious. Terry reached me just as I began to lose consciousness myself. I heard Mary's hysterical cry behind me. I listened to the screams of others and felt tears entering my eyes. I really was dying. Warm arms were around me for the moment. He would be in danger if he stayed any longer.

"Terry, you need to go." I felt myself fading into darkness.

Some still vaguely romantic, girly part of me _wanted _to tell him that I had liked him since First Year, but I couldn't summon the energy. As suddenly as I had been hit, I lost consciousness.

Perhaps I had entered the hereafter, wherever that may be, perhaps I had just entered into somewhere without limits. And yet, for that theory, I still could hear shouts, screams, and calls for help. I lay there for what felt like eternity, hanging, suspended between life and death. At least, that was how I interpreted it.

I had _wanted _to do so many things. I _wanted_ to work for my father at our family's magical candle store on Diagon Alley. I _wanted _to be at Julian and Mary's wedding when they finally told each other their feelings. I _wanted_ to hug my mother again. I _wanted _to laugh in the common room, cry in the bedroom, and talk in the night again. I _wanted _to complete my sixth year…

So many things that I could have done.

During my ponderings, the chaos faded slowly away into silence.

One final thought entered my mind:

_I would sacrifice..._

**So, we never know the name of this girl for a reason. She doesn't need a name. She is one of the nameless many who died that night at Hogwarts. She represents the death of those unnamed kids that sacrificed themselves for what they deemed worthy. **

**Remember the Fallen.**


	2. Dreamed

**I continue to write one-shots. I really enjoy them and they make me release some of my feelings. Plus I feel that the fallen of the Battle need to be remembered. I always wanted to know more.**

**--**

Remember, I will still be here  
As long as you hold me, in your memory  
Remember, when your dreams have ended  
Time can be transcended  
Just remember me

_-Remember, Josh Groban_

**--**

**Dreamed**

I never imagined that I would survive the night, though I couldn't say that I wanted to see the dawn the morning after. Things always look worse in the light. I learned that lesson a long time ago. Somehow, I escaped the battle with nothing more than a curse scar and a killer head ache. I got off better than others.

Walking through the Great Hall was a mix between a carnival and a mortuary. Dead bodies and laughter, in my mind, never blended well. With a slow gait, for I was beyond exhausted from the pure amount of magical energy I had used, I approached the one body that mattered to me.

I stared for what felt like forever. The simple act of looking down at him made me want to run home, made me wish that I had followed the advice of my best friend and ran away. Of course, I had never been one for running.

I couldn't run home, could I?

Home was right in front of me, lying dead on the stone floor.

Falling to my knees, I didn't cry out when I felt a jar of pain from an open gash on my joint. I simply stared.

He did not look himself. His hair was white, perhaps from some strange curse, I could not be sure. His body was grotesquely swollen. I felt a wave of nausea wash over me, causing me to rock forward and place my palms on the ground for stability. Gashes of once oozing blood were now congealed and not even bothered with an effort to heal.

The most disturbing of his morbid features were his eyes.

I remembered them. Anyone who ever met him would say that his eyes were his best and most defining feature. They had always been the darkest chocolate brown, warm and inviting, intoxicating some would say, filled with a zest for adventure and what he always called 'the right thing'.

Now, they were staring at anything and nothing. Their bright inner glow had long since gone out. They were lifeless, a shell, a shadow.

Tears were beginning to form as I tried to fight them off. I was strong. I could get through this. I had made it through my father's death two years ago without falling apart in public. I could make it to the privacy of my own room, but then again who was to say that my dorm had not been destroyed?

Reaching forward for some kind of line of rescue, I took hold of his hand. It was still warm. I began to feel my walls crumbling, falling. I could hear others crying, wailing, beating the ground with their misery. They were screaming names, lamenting their loved ones, their friends, mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers…

Their boyfriends.

Without realizing, I had begun to allow the tears to flow freely down my face. I could not stop, nor did I honestly want to. What more was there that I could do?

I spent hours sitting beside his corpse, holding his hand. I watched others come and go, but I remained.

When it became late, a woman came past, a piece of parchment in hand. She asked his name. I replied, my voice monotone. She nodded and watched me sadly, her eyes falling on my hand entwined with his.

"What was your relation to Mr. Boot?"

I didn't respond. My air felt like it was frozen in my lungs. She had used the past tense. I grasped onto his hand with such force that it was a wonder his bones didn't break. Or perhaps since his body was in such disarray his hand may have been broken to begin with.

"Miss?"

"He _is_ my boyfriend." I murmured. She nodded and moved away. No one came to approach me for everyone had their own losses to face.

We had dreamed that once the war ended we would buy a flat in London, you know? So he could work at a reborn Ministry and I could start working at Gringotts. He had never thought of purposing since the year had been straight from the flaming depths of hell. The day that he had been tortured had also been our anniversary, the day that he had meant to ask me. We had dreamed of marriage, though, and children, of romance and simply living together.

…living together.

I suppose that will never happen, will it?

Death has a funny way of ruining your dreams…

**Once more the narrator does not have a name. Why? Because she is a lot of different people. She does not need a name for the reader to identify and feel her pain. Please review.**


	3. An End

**Another one that struck me today. I hope that all enjoy. Please leave me some reviews. Thanks. **

--

If I leave here tomorrow  
Would you still remember me?  
For I must be travelling on, now,  
'Cause there's too many places I've got to see.  
_-Freebird, Lynard Skynard_

_--_

**An End**

I dropped to the floor, taking my face into my hands. Hours upon hours of strength had weakened my fortitude. It was impossible to even stand. Three days had passed since the battle and I could still hear the screams. I closed my eyes, leaning against the side of my bed. Bending my leg, I place my forehead on its crest. I was desperate to close out the darkness of the night outside though I could not imagine it any other way. It had to be dark.

When we had rushed in together, I had expected to die. Before the battle commenced, we found one of the abandoned class rooms and sought momentary solitude, a moment for ourselves. I remembered our last conversation just before the fight began.

"I can't believe he came back!" I had said with an exasperated tone.

He smiled back broadly, clapping me on the shoulder. "He could only be a git for so long. He _had_ to come back."

A lull in our exchange passed. We didn't need words to convey our feelings. I felt him hold tightly to my shoulder, clutching it for dear life. I had never held onto anything as tight as he held onto me. Neither of us knew what to say. Who could when facing death?

"If one of us dies—," I murmured,

"—what happens?"

I nodded.

I saw him glance to the door. The fighting had begun. There were shouts, inhuman growls, and cries of death. I felt my stomach drop. The whole family fought outside those doors. "The end of an error." He quipped, pulling me into a quick hug. I wrapped my arms around him and held tight. "If one should fall, the other's has to keep going, right?"

I nodded, confident. "Won't happen though." His head shook. I wondered if I would ever get another chance to speak my peace. "I love you, ya know?"

He looked right at me and grinned. With that same grin he pushed me out the door, pulling out his wand. "Yeah, yeah, same to you. Now, let's go kick—"

"—some Death Eater arse!"

It all seemed so juvenile now. As I remembered his words, the thought could not leave me: _an end_. An end to the life I once knew, the life I had not appreciated, the life that I took for granted.

It was gone, long gone.

My body shook with sobs. I heaved great breaths to calm down, but nothing seemed to work. I felt shattered, as if I had been tortured for hours. I fell sideways to lay on my side, pulling my knees to my chest for some support. I couldn't stop. I just was out of control. I pulled both wands out of my pocket and laid them on the floor in front of my face on the wooden floor.

Two wands.

Two of us.

No more.

I lay there for hours, staring at nothing, feeling incomplete, a feeling that would never leave. I would live for years and keep that emotion in my heart, locked away.

_Not whole. _

Somewhere in the fog I heard a voice:

"George?"


	4. Pride

I'll say it to be proud, won't have my life turn upside down  
Says the man with some, with some gold forged plan  
Of life so incomplete, like weights strapped around my feet  
Tread careful one step at a time

_Orchard of Mines, Globus_

**Pride**

I knew that I was being followed. That was of no shock to me. I was a good enough witch to know that much at least. I had tried to lead them away from the Minister. I hoped they would follow and they did. Perhaps my scarf was my identifying feature, I suppose I will never know. They came. I walked slowly into a dark alleyway, coming to a stop near three trash bins. My hands were steady and my knees did not shake as they did when I was younger. I rested my hand on my hips and waited.

"You're a fool." One of them hissed as I turned around slowly. I could not see their faces for those blasted masks. How I hated those abominations! "We know the muggle is under your protection."

"Ruddy geniuses, aren't you?" I bit out, squaring my shoulders. I held my wand tightly in my left hand.

Moments of silence made me wonder just what they had come for, but I already knew. I had been betrayed. There was not a doubt in my mind. I knew when I began my trek toward Downing Street that I would be attacked. No matter, there was only two. I still had a chance.

"Your entire clan is dead, isn't it?" The taller of the two drawled. I narrowed my eyes. "Yes, I remember that night. It was a bloody good time, wasn't it, Yaxley? The two youngest we saved for last, of course." I kept my temper under control. "They screamed the loudest."

Yaxley shook his head. "I thought that Coralline yelled the best." He sneered. I felt myself beginning to shake. I knew what they had done to my family—to my sister.

The giant raised his wand calmly, a smile breaking on his face. "So, Vance, still as proud as you were in school?"

I pulled my wand up equal to his at the same time. I had relied on the oak wood in my hand since I was but a child. It would get me through another battle. It would. "I should say so. I see no reason for my pride to disperse."

All at once, I threw up a shield as he tried to slice me open. I kept my eyes on his face. He kept his eyes on mine. I knew those eyes. We had met in battle so many times that I could identify him without effort. He tried to hit me with the Killing Curse as I dove out of the way. This continued for a long amount of time, dodging, dancing around death. Even for my age, I could still duel with the best of them!

Yaxley reclined against the brick wall, watching the duel with bored eyes.

I made a single mistake.

Pain shot through my side as a slashing curse cut through the skin. I did not cry out. Even as I hit the ground, I made a swish of my wand, throwing my opponent to the ground. I felt the Cruciatus hit me with a vengeance. I still did not scream. I bit my tongue hard, drawing blood. "Scream, you wretch!" Every nerve burned, seared. I was on the edge of passing out when I felt my wand being kicked from my hand. I did not shed a tear in my fear. I knew what was coming and I accepted it.

A binding spell fastened my legs and arms to the ground. I waded between consciousness and unconsciousness, but I fought to remain awake.

"Let's hear that famous Vance scream, shall we?"

I raised my chin defiantly. The first slash ripped through my lower leg.

The next through my breast.

I wanted so much to simply cry out, but I would not allow it. _No._

My mind began to fade. I thought of other things. My sister. My husband. My family. I would be joining them soon. There would be no escape. I had escaped many times before, but this was it: the final breath.

Slashes, blood…no screams. Not one tear fell from my eyes.

"The old bitch simply won't give up!" Yaxley practically yelled.

I saw, somewhere in my haze between life and death, the Death Eater before me grin. With a flick of his wand, he slashed my throat. I stared at him for the longest moment, shocked. He could have continued. I would have fought. I did not need pity, especially not from him. The edges of my vision began to blur and I was transported to another time.

The pain faded with my vision. I could no longer feel my life force fading with the loss of my blood. I couldn't feel the twenty three incisions in my skin, all over my body. I could no longer feel at all.

Some part of my consciousness continued to fight. I had been fighting for so long that I hardly knew how to do anything else.

What more did I want? I could let go and hope for the best for my friends. That the war would end once and for all. I had a long enough life. I had experienced everything one could want. I was not deprived of any life experience. I could die happy even through my murder.

I could die with pride.

I died with pride.


	5. Scars

The love for what you hide  
The bitterness inside  
Is growing like the new born  
When you've seen, seen  
Too much, too young, young  
Soulless is everywhere

_New Born, Muse_

**Scars**

The mirror was surely lying. I had met a lying mirror once on a trip overseas with my parents. That had to be the case. I brought my fingers to my cheek and placed them on the skin. I winced and pulled my hand back.

I was healed. Three weeks after the battle and I could finally stand.

It had been a difficult month full of tears, mourning, joy and relief, such a mixture of emotions that I had a hard time even keeping up with the changes from day to day. Some of friends were still here. I smiled with them, laughed and cried with them. We had become inseparable, but now that I had a moment to myself, I enjoyed the solitude.

Madam Pompfry had said that I would not want to see my reflection. She had been right. I should have listened.

In the back of my mind, as I lay in the hospital bed day after day, bandages covering my upper body and face, I knew that the final outcome would not be beautiful. Nothing could be beautiful after the things that I had witnessed. A loss of innocence that was what the battle had been for me. With the disappearance of something I had clung to for so long, much of my demeanor had changed.

In the mirror before me, a girl stared blankly back, her blue eyes without their previous sparkle. She had a strong jaw, a nice pair of lips. Beautiful, but something marred her looks: scars, drawn from her hairline to her mid-cheek, a mix between red and pink. They cut their way across her pale skin. More of the scars came around her neck and disappeared under the collar of her shirt.

I brought my fingers to the largest scar and recalled how they had come to be.

Claws, ripping through my flesh.

Teeth nearly through my skin.

Curses, burning my shoulders and neck.

With the scars of battle, I could remember everything. Every detail was etched into my skin and into my memory. Years would pass. I would find a man that could accept and understand me, with or without my disfigurement. I would have children that would ask me for the story of my marks. I would tell them of a great battle where their mommy nearly lost her life, lost many of her friends, and became one of the famous defenders of Hogwarts, that their mommy fought for her friends and family.

The scars held a new meaning for me after I thought about it for a moment. I raised my chin and grinned into the mirror at the new Lavender Brown and I knew: they couldn't keep me down!


	6. Willing

**This is by far my favorite one-shot I have written. It took a little bit of research, but I feel that it is one of my best. I tried to imagine myself in that position. The song lyrics display the emotion I wanted to display and I feel that they are a solid reflection of the storyline.**

And I will always do my duty no matter what the price  
I've counted up the cost, I know the sacrifice  
Oh and I don't want to die for you, but if dyin's asked of me  
I'll bear that cross with honor, cause freedom don't come free.

_American Soldier, Toby Keith_

**Willing**

"You're joking, right? You know that _I_ would never do that." My brother grinned, clapping me on the back as we climbed the hill. It was dusk and the clouds had started to roll in, showing amazing displays of color: red and orange fading into a deep purple hue. It was the most beautiful sunset I had seen in months. "You know that he told us to come here and I really do want to check on the McKinnnons."

I nodded, smiling. I kept my wand aloft, ready for anything, but I turned and smirked at him. "Whatever. You just want to see Marlene."

Fabian shrugged, coming to the top of the hill before me. He was on the ground within moments, screaming, writhing I crouched and pulled him back, but there was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. My eyes darted to the figures around us as my brother continued to shriek on the ground. He took to biting his tongue, unwilling to give the Death Eaters the pleasure of his screams. I counted quickly. Five! There were five of them! The sky seemed to grow darker above us. I knew at once.

The McKinnon family was dead, all of them. A pain shot through my heart for Marlene and Karen, Marlene's sister. They had been good women. Finally, my brother got on one knee beside me and aimed his wand at one half of the circle around us. "Bloody bastards, this was a trap."

"Indeed, brother, I believe it was." I muttered, feeling him ease up beside me.

I had been fearful in the past. When Molly ran off with Arthur, I had been scared to death that she had been kidnapped. When Lily and James almost got killed by Voldemort, I nearly had to be tied down. When Fabian nearly gotten himself killed with Alastor almost a year ago, I had contemplated a suicide mission to join him. Fear could not describe how I felt as we were surrounded.

I was terrified.

I felt Fabian standing behind me. "Buggar all, there're five of them."

My first instinct was to smile. "They'll _need _that many to kill us."

"You speak the truth, Gideon." Fabian was grinning. I could hear it in his tone. "Shall we dance? It's been awhile since we've had a good bit of exercise. What with all that food Molls keeps feeding us, we need it. I feel I'm getting round 'bout the middle." I heard him pat his stomach.

We both waved our wands at the same time, sending all five flying back into the trees. I began to jump, dodging spells. "Protego!" I shouted over my shoulder, blocking a stun from hitting my brother. I felt a pain in my side. A small hole had appeared there in seconds. I used my left hand to hold to it. There was no time to even try to heal it. The sun was fading quickly. After nearly ten minutes of intense dueling, I had one Death Eater on the ground. "Fabian, how are you faring?"

"Well enough! The great Dolohov buffoon is out to get me. I think I angered him the last time we danced." I laughed remembering our last scrape with death. Setting the idiot's hair aflame had been an adventure of itself. "Petrificus Totalus!" I dashed forward, rejoining my brother. I grabbed his arm to Apparate. Nothing. We remained. "We're trapped."

"I could have told you that!" Fabian said through gritted teeth. "Send up the sparks, someone will see." I did just that as the Death Eaters recollected themselves at the top of the hill. We had lost the high ground advantage. "Brother, I have lost that good feeling. I feel it is best I tell you—"

"—I know, Fabian, I know. Let's kick some arse and go out in style, shall we?" He nodded his consent, his brown eyes, mirrors of my own, showing the courage I felt in my heart. We were going to die, but I would be damned if I didn't go without a fight.

Spells flew in so many different directions that I lost track of just which Death Eater I was fighting. I tried to keep an eye on my brother's back. Cuts, bruises, curse scars all adorned my skin. I was growing weary. In mere seconds the tides changed. "Fabian!" At the same time, he turned to look at me, a grin on his face as he killed a Death Eater. Blood smeared over his neck and down onto this shirt, blood matting down his hair. I heard the curse and saw the green light hit my brother's back. He was still grinning as he fell to the ground.

Four of the Death Eaters surrounded me and his body. I stood over him, one foot on either side. I felt my heart jumping in my chest. This was it.

_This was it._

I didn't even have time to mourn for my brother.

I didn't join the Order for the glory of dying in the hope for a better future. I just joined because it was duty and promised adventure. I knew the sacrifice I would have run the risk of paying. Beside my brother, I was ready to proudly take a stand, to fight. I was terrified, but what's more, I was _willing_ to die. I was willing to die for what was right. If I was to die anywhere, it would have always been on the front lines, right next to Fabian. I squared my shoulders to the advancing wizards.

Four curses came at once. All of them green.

In the second that it took for the curses to hit me, I whipped my wand around in a broad circle causing every Death Eater to fly into the trees, some with such force that they would not be able to walk away alive.

It was already too late.

**I have always been curious about the Prewett Brothers. They were said to have been very brave. I had been listening to '_American Soldier'_ one night and this fic entered my brain. It would no leave. They took on the soldier's duty. **


	7. Hope

The talks you never had, the Saturdays you never spent.  
All the 'grown-up' places you never went.  
And all of the crying you wouldn't understand.  
You just let him cry, 'make a man out of him.'

Left Behind, Spring Awakening

**Hope**

_Mother, _

_The simple fact that you and Father were never home never bothered me too much. Uncle had tried for years to make me aware of the truth. I refused up until last night upon talking with a few of my mates. I realized he was right all this time. _

_When I arrived back at school, I am unsure if you know this was my last year, I was looked upon with great disdain. It is because of the green tie that I wear around my neck. It bears a heavy weight. We (my mates and I) understand there is nothing we can do about other's views of us. We are what we are, correct? We are worthy of their hate? We returned though, didn't we? And yet they say that we didn't lose anything in the War, that we deserved what we got._

_I find that to be untrue, Mother. If that were the case, I would be where you are right now, rotting. I would be sitting in that cell with you, because of my connections to Death Eaters. I simply cannot see how I am at all connected to you. You were never a mother to me, neither was Father a father. You simply gave birth to me in the end. It was Uncle that raised me, taught me what I needed to know. _

_I will be leaving Hogwarts soon, together with students who returned for the battle. There are seven other Slytherins who will be accompanying me on the train. I will be leaving for a new life. I will be starting anew without the stigmas._

_I will not owl this letter. I know this and yet I will continue to write to you, a woman whom I barely know. _

_I came back and fought. You know that. I thought that perhaps I could convince you to stop for the sake of your own son. I was wrong. I came back too late. Father had already been killed and you were still fighting. _

_You will never know that I found happiness, will you? You kept up your foolish games. Well, I have found a Muggle-born who loves me Mother. I wonder what you would say to—_

"Hey," a voice said, scaring the wits out of me. "Are you ready to go? We need to leave in ten minutes or the Express will leave without us." I gave the girl a fierce glare before folding the parchment and slipping it into my journal. "Writing again?"

"Have to have something to keep the thoughts at bay." I shrugged, throwing my bag over my shoulder. I gave my companion a wry smile. "Have a problem with that, Ellington?"

She shook her head and strolled out the door. I turned to follow but stopped momentarily. "Be there in a moment." I strode back to my bedside table, taking in the picture that sat there. It was held in a black frame. My Father and Mother smiled up out at me, arms around each other. I could see the Dark Mark through my father's white shirt. Without hesitation, I picked the picture up and threw it into the drawer. I had no parents. I had lost them during the War. When my mother threw the Cruciatus at me, screaming something about betrayal before she was overrun, she had died in my heart.

"Nott, come on! The Express will leave without us!"

I allowed a smile to come to my face. Perhaps I had lost my parents to the Dark Lord, in a completely different way than others, but it didn't change anything. I still lost them.

I did gain something though.

We Slytherins always gain something in the end.

I obtained hope.

**The idea of the Slytherin loss has always fascinated me, but I really didn't know how to go about it. I had a really hard time writing this piece, but I think it ended up okay, yeah?**


	8. Unfair

Sunny days seem to hurt the most.  
I wear the pain like a heavy coat.  
I feel you everywhere I go.  
I see your smile, I see your face,  
I hear you laughin' in the rain.  
I still can't believe you're gone.

_Who You'd Be Today, Kenny Chesney  
_-

**Unfair**

We sat staring straight ahead for the longest of times. Just silence. Perhaps that is the greatest harbinger of sadness. My eyes were filling with unshed tears. I allowed them to fall at first. The day was quiet, just like any other in temperance to everyone but me. I knew the feel of the wind before and the feel now, it was much different. The sun even hid behind the clouds. If the weather had ever matched my mood, it was then.

I turned to the crowd around me. My heart jumped. He stood there just a moment before, before I blinked. I knew that was impossible, he lay just in front of me, in that casket.

I could smell lilies. The scent was so strong that I almost gagged. I wondered just where the scent was coming from. There were no lilies that I could see.

I could hear the Minister speaking of loss, liberty, and hope.

I saw no hope. I saw nothing but the caskets in front of me, twenty of them lined in a row. Only one mattered to me though, only one held the person I cared most for.

How could these wooden staples showcase hope? They showed nothing but loss.

I could taste the metal-like flavor in my mouth as I bit the inside of my cheek for self control. Ahead of me, my best friend sat her head on her boyfriend's shoulder. My stomach dropped. Slowly I turned my head to see my mother shaking beside me.

She sat straight, tears rolling down her face. Those tears made the reality all the more obvious.

_This cannot be happening! _I remember thinking, naively, my hands grasping desperately to the hem of my robes. _I'll wake up in my dorm and none of this will have happened._

Such was not the case and I knew it. I still could not help but think, as I half listened to different speakers come and go from the small stage, what might have happened if circumstances were different. If my father had not decided to join the Order of the Phoenix, what would have happened? What would happen? I continued to fall into my own fantasies, my own dreams. What would happen now? When I was little I had always imagined my father walking me down the aisle at my wedding, pulling my veil over my head and kissing me gently before handing me over to my beloved. No more. I had always thought that when I had children, my father Dad would hug them close and tell them stories as he had done with me when I was little. No longer. So many things that I had envisioned were gone in one night, in one lone moment.

My mother, too, I could not imagine how she must have felt with a sixteen year old daughter and the love of her life gone. I felt tears sliding down my face again, but I no longer cared. I would not be the only one crying openly.

What would he have said? Thought? Done? Who would he be in the dawning light of a new era in the Wizarding world? I knew he would have whooped and hollered like the youngest of them, pulling my mother in to victorious and gleeful hug, kissing her deeply. I would have run over and pushed my face into his chest and told him how proud I was. My father had been a warrior, fought with the best.

He had taught me so many things about life, about love and about myself: taught me to tie my shoestrings, to ride a broom, the difference between wrong and right. He taught me to be strong. I was trying to implement that lesson with little success. I had been so much like him in my years of school that many said 'you are your father's daughter through and through'. I had always wrinkled my nose and rolled my eyes at the statement, but as I remembered the comments, I felt such pride that it brought anew the waves of tears.

He made so many sacrifices for me. In the end, I suppose he made the greatest sacrifice. I knew that was why he had joined the War. He wanted to protect me, my future. Since my Mum was a Muggle, he saw the threat like the veteran he was.

The man that I loved more than any other lay in a casket ten feet away from me, a magicked picture of him hanging in the air above the wood box.

_It was all so unfair!_ In my mind, I knew I sounded like a petulant child, but I could not stop the thoughts. I had been robbed. My Mother and Father, they had been robbed, years of happiness, growth, and prosperity stolen right from our hearts.

_It was all so unfair!_

I leant forward, resting my elbows on my knees. I rocked back and forth, trying to regulate my erratic heart and shallow breathing. _I not gonna cry!_ I thought desperately. My hands, wringing in front of me, were shaking with the effort.

But I could not the stop the tears. They fell to the stone floor as I blinked them away.

I heard my mother weeping beside me. I could hear everything; the words of Professor McGonagall, the wails of mothers, sisters, fathers, brothers, and friends, the dead silence beyond that. I didn't want to hear at all. I didn't want any of this.

I felt a hand come to rest on my shoulder. It began to rub circles. I turned to see my mother as the funeral continued. We stared at each other for a long time. Slowly, I pulled myself up and wrapped my arms around her, under her arms as I used to do when I was a child. I pushed my face into her shoulder and let go. My breathing became hiccups and gasps as I clung desperately to her. She was shaking violently, holding onto me for dear life. "Shh, baby, I know, I know." She whispered into my hair. Her upper body began to rock, as if I were an infant again. "I know, baby, I know." I sucked in air through my nose. "Daddy is still here darling. He's still here. I'm holding him r-right now."

I began to pull away. The rest of the congregation outside of Hogwarts melted away. My Mum ran her hands over my face, pushing back wet stray hairs. I saw something in my mother's eyes then, hidden deep within the depths of sorrow:

My Dad was looking back out at me.

I felt the corners of my lips turn up a bit as I buried my head in Mum's chest once more.

Tears, again.

It didn't ease the pain.

He was still gone.


	9. Home

This is what it means to be held.  
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life  
And you survive.  
This is what it is to be loved.  
And to know that the promise was  
When everything fell we'd be held.

_Held, Natalie Grant_

**Home**

Dried blood over the walls, tables, chairs, over the windows and frames. It is everywhere. I spun this way and that, looking for a clean surface. There was none in sight. Everything had been destroyed. Every step that I took furthering myself into the space, the entire structure moaned, as if the weight of my body were causing it immense pain. I took two tentative steps and stopped.

On the floor in front of me, I stared at a picture frame.

My roommate smiled up at me, as if nothing had happened. At the time of the picture, nothing _had _happened. It was before the start of the War, before she had been killed so brutally.

Our home had been ransacked, torn apart.

I fell to my knees, my eyes filling with tears, the face of my best friend staring up at me. She had been my cousin, my confidant. The hand of my fiancé came to rest on my shoulder as I cried, burying my face in my hands. I cried not only for the loss of a dear friend but also because of the house.

That old house in Old Arley held so many memories. We had moved in two weeks after our graduation from Hogwarts, nearly fifteen years prior. The walls held so many memories, times long past. I slowly stood, determined to assess the damage done by the Death Eaters. Kale held to my hand, resolute in his support.

"Where to first?" He murmured, helping me into the den. "Upstairs?"

"Not yet." I answered, stepping over my overturned desk. My papers were strewn across the room. "They broke everything, didn't they?" Gently, I picked up my journal. Dusting off the top, I regretted the fact that I had not returned to the house since she had been kidnapped, for fear of my own life. I had taken up residence with my Pureblood boyfriend and learned of my roommate's demise weeks after her kidnapping. Over the past year and a half, I had come to accept my sadness. I had experienced the death of a loved one before, with the death of my sister in the First War. I knew the course that the emotional healing would take.

Even for that, I had never had my home completely shattered before. A new experience, indeed.

"They broke the vase." Nicholas murmured, shaking his head in the corner of the room.

I glanced around. "I don't think there is anything they didn't break." I meant that in more ways than one. For a moment, I stood still, simply taking it all in. I could remember many a happy night within the walls around me. Birthday parties, late nights, chocolate frogs, and pumpkin juice, all ran through my memories. "Can you get together anything salvageable? I have something to take care of upstairs." He nodded, waving his hand over his shoulder.

Climbing the stairs, I could feel the air becoming more and more heavy, a weight against my chest. I wanted to turn around, to not acknowledge the hurt that lay beyond the doors. It was the purest need to know and find closure that made me place my hand on the rustic knob, pushing the door to Charity's room ajar.

Inside there were obvious signs of a struggle, anyone could tell by the blood and overturned items. Yet, her room was not as damaged as the rest of the house. For that I could be thankful. I moved further into the room. In the corner lay an empty owl cage. Jefferson, Charity's barn owl, had resided there. I wondered if perhaps he had been away when she was taken. I would never know.

The posters and pictures on her light yellow walls were gone, ripped and strewn across the hardwoods. Her once beautiful oak bed was now in shambles resembling jumbled matches.

It was all lost.

Shaking my head, I turned and walked briskly out the door and down the hall.

My room.

I nodded resolutely before pushing the already partly open door inward. What I saw shocked me.

Nothing was out of place. Not one item had been moved. I stepped inside, shaking my head in wonder. My bedding was pristine, the walls white. I would have been surprised if there had been a speck of dust. Walking over to my bedside table, I took a picture in my hands and sat on the edge of my bed: Nick, Charity, and myself smiling and waving when Charity had received her appointment at Hogwarts not seven years ago.

I glanced up from my photograph and found my room to be in just as much disarray as the rest of the house. Everything was pristine and yet, broken. The clock on my dressing table had stopped working, stuck with the large hand on the six and the small on the nine. Nine-thirty—the time when Charity had been taken. I chanced a look into the mirror and froze.

'Blood-traitor' was written on the polished glass in hurried script. There was nothing more. Perhaps nothing else was needed.

Taking the picture with me, I exited the bedroom without a second glance. I closed that chapter of my life as I stepped out the door, pulling it shut behind me. There was no use in trying to live in a house where I would feel nothing but pain. What good would that do me? My memories. My love for that home live on inside my heart. I may have only been placing my feelings of regret, fear and loathing…of pain, into a preverbal box.

That didn't matter though, did it?

The house in Old Arley still stands to this day. No one lives there. No one can forget the monstrosities that occurred within the walls. Several people lost things in the war. I know that. Everyone does. I lost Charity, my best friend, but I also lost something else.

I lost my Home.

**I wanted to show differing kinds of loss. I wonder how I did with showing this woman's loss. She lost her best friend, but she is already dealing with that. She returns to her home for the first time and realizes that she has lost a lot more than she could have imagined. This character is very strong. **


	10. Imagined

**Alright, so I know that reading about death is very sordid, but there are lessons that can be learned. I know that I have lost very close family members and friends. I know loss because everyone experiences it. It is a common trait, of course. So this one-shot is currently the last I have on file at the moment. There may or may not be more to come, but this is a very emotional one for me. I must say that it conveys what every person who loses a loved one comes down to in the end. Not necessarily in this way, but...**

Let it slide,  
Let your troubles fall behind you  
Let it shine  
until you feel it all around you  
and I don't mind  
If it's me you need to turn to  
We'll get by,  
it's the heart that really matters in the end.

_Little Wonders, Rob Thomas_

**Imagined**

"Do you remember how he used to tell those pointless stories?" My brother grinned, taking a sip of his tea. I laughed and nodded along with the rest of our friends. We sat in our kitchen simply enjoying the relaxed Sunday afternoon. I stood to get more tea, patting my husband's shoulder as I passed. "I never understood what he was trying to get at with the one about the broom and the teacup."

"I would guess that he didn't really know either." Rayford chuckled, giving me a wink. "I think he was just taking the mickey out of you."

Ernie started to crack up, taking a cookie into his hand. "I should say he succeeded."

A small head popped around the doorframe. I jumped a bit and motioned for her to enter. She only came to my hip, dirty blonde bouncing curls and shining brown eyes: she looked just like him. "Amelia, come here, baby." She ran up to hug my leg. "Look, Uncle Ernie has come!" Ernie held his hands out for my daughter. She giggled and jumped into his arms.

"Jonathan would have been very proud of you." Rayford said, standing while Amelia was distracted.

"Five years tomorrow," I smiled, glancing to a picture sitting on the mantle in our small den. He had died in early 1998, during the winter. He had been discovered on the run from Snatchers. I had remained at home because of my pure blood and for our child's safety. I remembered every detail as if it were yesterday. The expression on Ernie's face when he had come to tell me. The way I had cried. "I can't believe it's been that long." I glanced to my daughter. "She's gotten so old."

"She looks just like him." Ray smiled, hugging my shoulder to him. "She will be a handful when she gets of age, just like he was."

I laughed, leaning up to kiss his cheek. "Merlin, help us then."

"Hey, mom, she wants to hear the story again." Ernie called. I gave Ray triumphant look and nodded. He sat beside me at the table. My little brother, now twenty three, held my daughter on his crossed legs, taking a leisurely sip from his cup. He gave me a small smile.

"Well, darling," I began. "There was a man a long time ago. His name was Jonathan Jenkins. He was a wizard. During a great war, he was ambushed." My daughter made a gasping sound. I smiled as Ray took my hand under the ledge of the table. "He knew that he couldn't return home and knowing that, he fought the bad men. He fought as hard as he could against three of them." A look of horror crossed my daughter's face and I held tightly to Ray's hand. "In the end, he died in his fight. He was the strongest and funniest of all the men." My little Amelia smiled, a smile that I had seen before, that I saw every night in my dreams: John's smile.

Ernie bounced her up and down, giving me a worried glance. I didn't even realize that my features had lost their mask. "Amelia, let's go play. I'll make the pretty birds again." He followed her into the den, pulling out his wand.

I had never imagined that the last time I would see my husband would be the same day that I learned of my pregnancy. I never imagined the true danger. I never imagined that I would lose him so quickly. I never imagined that I would be able to live after hearing the news.

The years following had been hard. I would not deny that fact. Everyone had lost something after the war. Everyone suffered. I struggled through the pregnancy, depending on my family to serve as a buoy to keep me afloat in the waters of a storm. Ernie had stepped up to the plate. He was so young at the time, nearly eight years younger than me, but he showed a maturity beyond his years.

Eventually, I had found strength in my new husband, a strength I wasn't sure I deserved. Rayford understood unconditionally. He supported me, took Amelia in as his own daughter. He loved me, but did not expect me to forget.

Now, I can look back at the good memories. They are the easiest to hold on to in the end. I could remember the smiles, laughs, stories, and beauty. I could hold on to that and only that. I could raise Amelia to know her father through stories of his bravery and humor, of him. She would know him as well as she knew herself. He was within her. So, if she knew herself, she really knew him as well, I reasoned. I could live everyday knowing that he wasn't gone, not completely, and he never would be. He was very much alive. In every breath I took, every sparkle of Amelia's eyes, and every smile I broke. I could _live._

It would be what Jonathan would want, after all.

For me.

And for Amelia.

**That's what it comes down to in the end. I hope that somewhere, someone reads this and understands. I know that I do. You reach a point in your grieving when all you want is to remember the good times, the laughter and smiles, foresaking the saddness. Ultimately, regardless of what you are pushing through, you must remember. I know it is hard, that's what makes this one-shot so strong for me.**


	11. Memory

**A/N:** Struck me the other day as I was sitting in class. I thought that it was a neat idea.

* * *

When all this actual life played out  
Where the hell on Earth was I?  
I rack my brains but it won't come

Through water damaged bloodshot eyes  
The fleeting triumphs, brazen lies  
All seem to mingle into one

_Please Just Take These Photos From My Hands, Snow Patrol_

* * *

**Stop Every Clock**

By: OurLoveIsForever

**Memory**

So they tell me my name is Anthony.

I'm not sure if they know what they are talking about, but who am I to question? I can barely remember what I ate for breakfast sometimes. I honestly cannot recall anything beyond May 3rd. The haziest of memories returns every now and again, like snapshots in time, but I can remember nothing save for the fact that I am a wizard and some spells.

They tell me that I fought in a war, that I was a brave soul.

They tell me that I got hit with a Memory Charm during the midst of a fierce battle at my school.

I am completely clueless as to what they are referring, but I _can't_ remember so perhaps they are right.

Two men came to see me three days before I was due to leave. One called himself Michael and the other, Ernie. I didn't recall them either.

_What's new? _

Micheal, a tall bloke with dark hair and eyes, stood by my bed, near the point of tears saying, "You'll get better. You'll get better. It will come back. They will come back." The desperate way he muttered those words made it sound like a prayer. I really wanted to help him, really I did, but as much as I thought, I could not even recall his last name.

He told me of my home, of my family and friends. Apparently, our other best friend, a boy named Terry, had died in the battle. Michael could barely speak his name through his tears. That boy had been hit with a horrible curse the likes of which I had never heard of before. Although I did not know the young man, I felt a surge of sorrow for his family.

A nurse interrupted my musings. "Anthony, it's time to go home." But _where was that? _

I followed the medi-witch to the entrance of the hospital. The tall, brown haired man stood by the doorway. The blond was not present. Better things to do, I supposed.

"Now, you will be living with Mister Corner for the next few weeks while your family handles other business." But _what 'other business'?_

"Come on, mate. Everyone is excited to see you." Micheal beamed. I couldn't help but smile in return. Perhaps he _had _been my best friend. The next moment, we stepped out into the bright sunlight. I had not been outside since waking in the charm ward nearly a month prior. Michael held out his arm for 'Side-Along apparition'. I glanced over and shook my head. "Don't worry. Everything will be fine." I stared at him for a moment before taking hold of his arm.

The afternoon was spent in a blur of colors. I was told names but I couldn't memorize half of them. They understood. They _all _understood. I felt a bit empty to hear them speak of good times, trying to awaken my latent memories. Sadly, none of it worked and I went to bed the same way I had left.

While I lay in that bed, in a home where I felt like a stranger, I realized there was a part of myself that was missing, a great, large piece that had been ripped from my person. I could never regain it. My memories were just as lost as Terry. There would be no retrieval, no miracle recovery. My past had disappeared with the flick of a wand. With the sheer hopelessness of it all, I turned to my side and wept. It felt as if I were trapped in darkness, a sick veil that hid me from the remainder of the world. Somewhere in the distance, in a far room, I heard another crying as well. Michael had lost two friends, while I had lost '_me'_.

A surge of unrestrained rage welled up within me and with no self-control yelled out, punching at the bedding. How could anyone do this to another person? How could they? Damn them, damn them…

I opened my eyes and looked to the doorway. Michael watched me, his face holding the most tortured expression I had ever seen. "Damn them." He muttered, gave me a nod, and he turned away into the shadows.

For some reason, a smile broke on my face as I stared to the door.

At least I didn't have to be alone now.

* * *

**A/N: **Not a pairing. Just memory loss, losing one's 'self', losing friends. I just thought it was a very strange idea. I had never written someone with memory loss before. It was very difficult. Please leave thoughts and comments.


	12. Album

**A/N: Primer words here: I got the idea while listening to the amazing musical **_**In the Heights**_**. I highly recommend it. The lyrics below are from the inspiration. I hope that this is enjoyed.**

* * *

Our lives are in these boxes

But the woman who held us gone

But we go one, we grow

**Everything I Know, In the Heights**

* * *

**Album**

**By: OurLoveIsForever**

In this album there's a picture of the boys at Wizard Wheezes, two men smiling at the camera and waving, arms around each other. Underneath the image, on the back, it read: April 1, 2000. You can tell that they were sad, even through the grins and laughs. I flipped the page carefully. There was Mum as a baby, 2006 Halloween. If it happened in this family, Grandma was there.

In the album that sat on my lap, as I positioned myself closer to the fire, there was a picture of Grandma at the Burrow the night before her and her friends were to leave. They were leaning toward each other unaware of the camera or the person taking the picture. Their heads so close together that they could have been one entity. My eyes slid to the next picture of Mum at Hogwarts the night before her graduation, her hand held toward another person, her eyes sparkling with tears. I wondered how Grandma got this picture of that moment in time.

As I looked closer, I realized the moment I was spying. I wondered what my Mother was thinking as Da knelt down in front of her. What with the Uprising and rumors, what would she do? Could they ever accept them? Where would they go?

Flipping the page, I felt the tears enter my eyes. On the page lay a picture as I stood at the doors of Hogwart's Great Hall, my family around me. Mum and Dad stood on either side, grinning proudly.

She kept everything we gave her, every little scrap of paper. Our lives were in the boxes beside me. Graduations, births, weddings, heartbreak, joy. They all took place within our family and little memoirs were packed away by grieving hands as we prepared to move on. The woman who held us was gone, dead on a cold, dark night, but we held on, we grew.

She was brave, smart, and saw beauty in the simplest of things. I could remember a night in late September. I was ten, alone among a gaggle of children, alone. She told me something I never forgot.

"Phoebe, remember that you are the smartest of them all. Keep your confidence and no one can bring you down."

I never forgot.

Grandpa Weasley cleared his throat from the door. I glanced up from the photo album and offered a weak smile. He stepped forward and took a seat next to me on the couch. "Phebes, are you okay?"

I nodded slowly, handing him the pictures. "Here, Grandpa."

He laughed good-naturedly and patted my hand. "She was adamant about keeping this thing updated. You know o'course how anal she was about everything. I would think that Rosie put everything in order by boxes, right? That brain, she would." Gently, he handed the book back to me and grinned. "I've got a couple o' places to go right now, Phebes. Auntie Gin is throwing that party tonight, don't forget." With seemingly nothing more to say, he slipped from the room.

I had been raised in a privileged home, surrounded by people who loved me, but I had always been closest to my Grandma: war hero, Ministry official, and the kindest person one could ever meet. So, as I leaned forward, cradling the album to my chest, tears streaming down my cheeks, I made a vow upon the photo album, on my family.

"I'll make you proud, Grandma Hermione."

* * *

**Woah, it just hit me suddenly as I was listening. I cried while writing this and I honestly hope that you cried while reading it. Just something to tide over until the next chapter of DOYO goes up. Yes, this is Rose's daughter, Pheobe. ^^**


	13. The Last

**The Last**

By: OurLoveIsForever

"Karen! Will you get the knives? It will be bloody difficult to cut this steak without knives." My brother called from the dining room. I rolled my eyes at my sister before leaning down. My hand slipped into the mountain of coffee curls that sat atop Grant's head. "Take these to your father, dear heart." The twelve year old nodded before moving out of the room. "He's growing up far too fast." I muttered, feeling incredibly old.

"It's about time for _you_ to have children, isn't it?" My mother chided. Her back was to me as she placed the freshly cut apples into the glass dish before magicking them out of the room. "How about Fabian Prewett?"

"What about him?" I acted as if I had no earthly clue what she was talking about. Looking about to Karen's slightly accusatory expression, I shrugged. "Romance and war mix about as well as oil and water."

Karen shook her head. "Well, there's that or you just won't admit that Moody caught the two of you snogging in the broom closet at Christmas." Before I could respond, she hurried out of the room. I let a smile slip onto my face as I averted my attention to the orange horizon through the window. For July, it was awfully cold. I wondered if perhaps we would get some rain later in the evening as the clouds were thickening. I knew for sure that Pa would pitch a fit if it rained on his birthday again.

A birthday celebratory dinner, a simple family gathering, the only time that all of the clan had congregated the entire year. We were a family of many. My brother, Gerald, had brought his wife and son in from Germany for the occasion. My Uncles, Edwin and Jeremy, had arrived earlier in the evening. Karen had brought her fiancée to stay for a few days. Add Pa and Mum. There were eleven in all that I had to prepare drinks for, I thought as I set out the cups.

As I reached up for the farthest cup, my muscles froze. At that same moment, my blood ran cold. Somewhere I could hear shouting, screaming, calls for help.

"Protego!" Gerald bellowed from the direction of the dining room. "Grant move behind me! Marlene! Marlene!" Desperation.

I couldn't respond. No matter how desperately I tried, my mouth would not move. I felt growing fear welling in my belly. No! No, it couldn't be! Please, no!

"My, _my._ Look at what I have here, mates! Marlene McKinnon herself." A voice said behind me. I felt a breath on my neck before a hand rested around my neck. I felt sick. "Travers, she's in here!"

"Just a moment, her sister is proving a bit of a trial!" came the reply. I felt the freezing charm wearing as the unidentified Death Eater moved away. I eased down to the sound of the thump in another part of the house. That sound echoed through every wooden frame, every bone of my body. "Malfoy, get the brat!"

I heard Grant yell for his mother. I fought with every ounce of my being to be free. Slowly, I reached for my wand, straining the muscle of my arm. Finally, I rested my fingers on the smooth wood. I felt comforted by its presence. "_Reducto_!" I shouted as I spun, hitting the Death Eater's back.

Blood splashed onto the floor, cabinets, cake, anything within range, including myself. I darted forward, dashing into a nook of a broom closet. My wand looped around, sending exploding curse at another Death Eater, his hand shot open yielding similar results within the living room. I could hear scuffling then something I had expected since I realized we were under attack.

"_Avada Kadavra_!" My heart stopped as a slumping sound filled the house. There were desperate cries, calls for help, weeping. I squeezed my eyes shut momentarily; not wanting to imagine which of my family had fallen. "Marlene?" The same voice said. I recognized it. Travers. "Where are you?" It was a rough, calloused tone. I shivered.

Like hell I would respond. I eased my way out of the hiding place, stepping over the pool of blood on the floor. The boots of my heels were hopefully masked by the crying of my sister.

I was a member of the Order. Truth be told, my whole family supported me in my associations. It was through that I learned to become a duelist, a marksman of sorts, and a fair spy. It was also how I knew when the game was up. Upon arriving in the parlor, I realized that we were dead. This realization dawned when a wand was pointed directly at my chest.

"Mum!" I screamed desperately, throwing myself forward. My knees slammed into the hardwood floors. To my right, my brother was shouting and jerking as a crucio curse hit him. If only I could get my hands on a wand, any wand! Tears leapt up in my eyes as I watched the matriarch of my family fall to the ground, unmoving. It was when her lithe from hit the floor, her head smacking with a deadly crunch that I realized my time was coming fast. All too fast.

There were seven of them, seven black clad heathens that surrounded my family. Each moved with clonking steps that echoed the thundering of my heart in my ears. They circled, cat-calling and pushing the executors on.

"Blood-traitors!"

"Blood-traitors!"

"Barbarians!"

"Kill them! Kill them!"

My eyes turned to where Grant laid with his eyes wide and blank, the youngest and the first to fall. We were being called barbarians? Gerald was still twitching beside his wife, a bit of foam slipped from his open mouth. His hand was reaching for Lisa's, her fingers made no move to tighten around his. She was long gone.

To my left, Karen was crying silently, her face cut and bruised. The head of my father was in her lap, his eyes also held the blankness of death. Just beside him, Edwin and Jeremy were strewn atop each other. They were second and third after refusing to kneel before the Death Eaters. Karen's fiancé was nowhere to be seen though I knew he was dead as well.

I narrowed my eyes before looking up at the executor. The blood in my mouth made it difficult to speak, but I pressed through it. "Kill me next, you lowlife!"

Travers grinned, shaking his head. "No, no. You see, it is _your_ fault this happened. If you had not killed my brother, I would not be here."

I did not deign to respond.

His wand pointed to my brother who was panting and weeping, his hands made no move to wipe the tears from his eyes. Those green eyes, eyes that I had seen nearly every day of my life, turned to me. I felt grief welling in me. He was defeated."Learning your lesson tonight, eh, Marlene? Avada Kadavra!"

My eyes eased closed as the green light hit him. I would be joining him soon. I would be joining all of them soon.

Karen yelped a bit at the suddenness. I felt her pain the worst. She was completely innocent, having never seen torture or death first hand. I moved slightly in front of her before one of the larger Death Eaters strode forward, grabbing me by the hair. I did not scream. I had lost all sense of pain. That's not to say that I didn't fight back. With what ingenuity I could find the strength to muster, I threw my head back into his nose. He cursed loudly, throwing me forward to painfully land on my knees once more.

"The mighty McKinnons weren't _that _hard to exterminate. They were stupid to gather in one place." Malfoy sneered, folding his arms over his chest. "I was so looking forward to more excitement."

"I would rather just finish up." One of the Carrow twins said, shaking her head. "I've got better things to do."

Travers shushed them with a great laugh. "The McKinnons were once a great clan."

"Still are." I replied, spitting out some blood toward his boots.

He sneered down at me before aiming his wand at my sister. Her chest froze. I felt panic wash over me when her eyes became so frightened. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. Her hands came from my father's head to scratch at her throat. Tears slid down her face as she frantically tried to breathe. I dove forward to help her, only to be grasped around the waist. "Karen!" I screamed as she began to choke. "Kare-" There were snickers from around the room.

I watched as the light began to leave her eyes. She had looked up to me with those eyes. She had thought I was the strongest of them all. I struggled against my captor, jabbing him rightly in the stomach before grabbing his wand. I slashed the wand around, throwing the Death Eaters into the walls. I threw another spell before I felt a horrible sensation in my back. Bright lights flashed in my eyes as I sunk to my knees once again, the wand fell from my hand. I looked to Karen, her eyes had become dull.

I was the last.

The final McKinnon in existence and I could do nothing to stop my death. I could do nothing to save my fallen family. What I did with my last spell was something that I never knew if it had worked. I sent a patronus to Fabian. He would know. He would come. They would all come.

As I fought to remain alive and alert, the searing pain in my back making breathing more and more difficult, Travers came to stand just in front of me. He leaned down, his hand pulled roughly at my head. He whispered roughly into my ear as he drew his wand over my throat. "_Diffindo._" My life began to vision began to fade with the intense pain slicing through the arteries of my neck. "Stupid wench."

"_Daddy, Da! Let me fly!" My father's smiling face as he swung me into the air._

_I pulled at the toy broom from one side, my sister cried on the other. "Karen, give me my broom!"_

"_Welcome to Hogwarts…" The floating candles, the freedom, the fear…_

_Gideon's ecstatic face. "I'm gonna be a father!"_

"_Join us in the fight." Albus Dumbledore's wise eyes and kind smile._

_Karen's tears of joy. "I'm getting married."_

"_I love you, Marlene." Fabian's grin as he held me to the wall of a broom closet before his lips crashed to mine._

Snickers filled the air as I slumped to the floor. I could see the red on the wood in front of my eyes. Blood. My blood. Strength was fading, _fading_... Somewhere in a tunnel, I heard a loud crack and shouts. Tears slipped down and mixed with that blood. A face swam into vision. Red hair, tears, before everything went black.

The end of the Great McKinnon bloodline.

The last.

**A/N**_: So, what are the thoughts? It was a bit more violent, but I toned it down a bit. Sorry for the change!_


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